


Friends in Low Places: Linus and Friends

by chris_edward (hwshipper)



Series: The Chris 'Verse [12]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Polyamory, Teenage sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-27
Updated: 2009-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwshipper/pseuds/chris_edward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each chapter is a short fic featuring Linus and his friends, and in particular the love of his life Raul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Friends in Low Places

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta**: thanks again to [](http://srsly-yes.livejournal.com/profile)[**srsly_yes**](http://srsly-yes.livejournal.com/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linus has been arrested. How Ziggy met Linus, a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [](http://hibernia1.livejournal.com/profile)[**hibernia1**](http://hibernia1.livejournal.com/) who always liked Ziggy :)

"Officer Bowie." The sergeant wheeled around the squad room and stabbed a finger in Ziggy's direction. "Go tell the fat faggot he's off the hook."

Ziggy stood up obediently and headed for the door.

"And tell him don't even _think _about suing this police department," the sergeant called after him. "There's no homophobic shit going on here."

Ziggy bit his tongue and slipped out into the corridor.

He was relieved at the outcome. It had all looked so serious when he'd responded to a _discharge of a firearm_ report and arrived at a big fancy house to find everyone shouting and screaming. A red-faced guy waving a shotgun, accusing a fat man in a Hawaiian shirt of having abducted his teenage son. What a goddamn mess.

Back at the station, it had become quickly apparent that the boy had run away from home a few weeks before and the fat man had found him on the street. Ziggy's patrol partner, and just about everyone else, assumed that the fat man had taken the boy in to molest him--but both parties had vehemently denied that. And lo and behold, the medical examination had borne them out.

Actually,_ fat _was unfair, Ziggy thought as he saw the prisoner sitting handcuffed to the bench in the corridor. Stout, perhaps, but he was a big man. He looked up as Ziggy approached; Ziggy sat down next to him and unlocked the cuffs.

"No charges, you're free to go," Ziggy told him.

"Ah, that's a relief," the man exclaimed. He lifted his freed hand, flexing the wrist. "Tell me, what's happening to the boy? He's not going back to his asshole father, is he?"

"Not right now," Ziggy told him. "Child protection are looking after him." The medical examination had showed some older injuries that frankly looked like the father had been beating the crap out of the boy for a long time.

"Glad to hear it." The man stood up. Ziggy stood up too, and they started to walk down the corridor towards the front desk.

"Did you really think he was eighteen?" Ziggy asked, curious.

"No, but I thought it an exaggeration from sixteen, seventeen," the man said gravely. "I really didn't put him as young as fifteen, or I wouldn't have brought him home, however cute he was. I'll be more careful next time."

Ziggy grimaced a little. "Take my advice, don't say that in here, you're asking for trouble." He remembered the sergeant's parting words. "Oh, and my boss says you're not to sue the department 'cause there's no homophobia here."

The man laughed. "And that's why they sent _you _to tell me, right?"

Ziggy didn't say anything, but he nodded his head once, curt.

"I don't know where you like to hang out, Officer," the man said. "But a friend of mine's about to open a new club down by the beach. It's gonna be great--I should know, I put up half the money. Grand opening is Friday next week. Come along, bring your friends."

Ziggy was amused. "You want a cop at your club?"

"I like having friends in high places. It can be mutually beneficial."

No shit. It had undoubtedly helped this guy that he not only had an influential lawyer, but a pal on the local council who had been on the phone straight away to the chief of police. Ziggy had a feeling that it might be useful to stay on the good side of this guy. Also, sometimes it just _sucked _being the only out policeman in the department. It would be nice to have a network he actually belonged in.

"You realize I'm just a lowly cop," Ziggy pointed out. "But I'll be there if I can."

"High places, low places, always handy to have a friendly policeman around. I'll look out for you, Officer--?"

"Bowie. Call me Ziggy." They arrived at the front desk; Ziggy unlocked the door at the side to let them out into reception.

"Call me Linus," the man said, stepping outside to freedom.

"Want a ride home, Linus?" Ziggy asked, figuring he could tell the sergeant he'd done it to placate the guy, stop him suing.

"Very kind of you, but a friend of mine should be here." Linus scanned the area. "There he is. Chris!"

A tall man came striding up, clad in tight blue jeans, and a clingy white T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Fair hair, gray eyes, young--early twenties, Ziggy guessed.

"This is my good friend Chris. He's opening the club I mentioned," Linus introduced them. "Chris, everything is fine and I'm a free man. I'd like you to meet Officer Bowie, known as Ziggy, who'll be joining us at the opening next week."

"Linus, how fucking typical," Chris scolded. "Only you could get arrested and then use the situation to start drumming up business for us."

"I'm a practical man," Linus said to Ziggy with a wink.

 

* * *

  
The following week Ziggy arrived at the club, found himself invited upstairs to the private bar, had a very pleasant time mingling with Linus and his friends, discovered that Linus played golf, and agreed to give him a game sometime.

Ziggy then ended the evening making out with a handsome older man with a mustache. They swapped phone numbers as they left, and made a date for the next day.

In the years to come, when people asked Linus and Ziggy how they met, they developed a routine. Linus would relate with pleasure, "Well, it was when Ziggy arrested me on suspicion of seducing a minor."

And Ziggy would chime in, "Though of course he'd never do such a thing. Turned out he only wanted to get himself handcuffed for the thrill."

"I never could resist a man in uniform," Linus would conclude.

And Ziggy, in his police chief uniform, would simply grin.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris once told Edward about this incident, in [Linus the Fairy Godmother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/68183/chapters/89983).


	2. Gone Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raul gets picked up by a man who doesn't seem to want to have sex with him, and tries to make sense of it.
> 
> **Excerpt**: _Much as Raul needed the money--God knows he really needed money--the guy hadn't even had a handjob for it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N**: Written for [](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/profile)[**daisylily**](http://daisylily.livejournal.com/) as a thank-you for donating to the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hl_bday_drive/profile)[**hl_bday_drive**](http://community.livejournal.com/hl_bday_drive/).

Raul did not understand what was going on.

He'd been hoping for a bed for the night. He'd got it, and he had not done a thing for it.

The large man in the colorful silk shirt had brought him back to a hotel suite, far larger and more sumptuous than anywhere Raul had been taken before, and contrary to Raul's expectations, had not immediately thrust a hand down Raul's pants the instant the door closed behind them.

Instead, he'd said, "Are you hungry, Raul? I know I am," and ordered room service.

Raul hadn't eaten since splurging a precious dollar on a hot dog the evening before, and took the opportunity to eat a big pile of sandwiches as quickly as possible. They'd chatted a bit as he ate; the large man was from New Jersey, visiting Florida for a few days on business. Raul didn't share much about himself, but conversed amicably about life in South Beach, figuring this was a prelude to being jumped.

But afterwards, the large man said, "Well, you're welcome to spend the night on the sofa. Good night, Raul," and vanished into the bedroom, alone.

And then Raul was on his own, flummoxed and not knowing what to do. Did the man want him to go into the bedroom anyway? Maybe this was some kind of role-playing game, some kind of plausible deniability--so the man could tell himself, _well I told him to sleep on the sofa. Not my fault he crept into bed with me._.. Raul recalled a guy the previous week, some kind of travelling salesman, who had Raul blow him while talking to his wife on his cell. People could be very weird.

Raul was willing to try most things at least once for the sake of boosting his meager and uncertain earnings, at least until he managed to afford a roof over his head. He even enjoyed it, for the most part; a little role-playing would be neither here nor there, could even be fun. But from everything Raul had seen of the large man, confident and direct, clearly familiar with the scene, he didn't think there was any internal conflict of that sort going on.

Raul could have left; could've gone back and cruised for a second trick for the evening. But he'd mainly hoped for a bed for the night, and hey, he'd got it without even having to put out. He wandered around the room for a while and nothing happened, so eventually he took off his shoes and his jeans, settled down on the sofa under a blanket, and went to sleep.

 

* * *

  
He slept well. The sofa was large and cozy, the room was warm, and he felt safe. Even if the large man did crawl in beside him in the middle of the night, it didn't matter, he'd expected that anyway... but it didn't happen. He slept, uninterrupted.

Sleep for Raul had been hurried bouts of shut-eye in cold alleys and on hard floors for a while now. He hadn't had a full night's sleep since he'd stumbled off a rickety boat at a deserted tumbledown Miami dock in the middle of the night two months ago, starving and seasick, splashing through shallows, scrambling to shore, heading for city blocks, wanting only to vanish. He'd never had a more detailed plan than _get to the USA and vanish_.

The vanishing had become all the more urgent since he suspected some of his companions on the boat had other plans for him. It had not been easy being the youngest on the boat, on his own, vulnerable and pretty, and he hadn't had a lot of choice about what had gone on out there. (On the other hand, he probably wouldn't have gotten the place on the boat if he hadn't been pretty). Anyway, thank God by the time they'd landed the other men had been even more seasick and wretched than he was. He hadn't had any trouble slipping away.

He woke to bright morning sunshine and the clinking of cups. Raul yawned, stretched, and suddenly remembered where he was. He sat bolt upright, suddenly petrified that he'd overslept, should have left hours ago, the large man might be angry or embarrassed--

"Good morning, Raul, coffee?" a voice asked, and it was the large man, in a different colorful shirt this time, sitting on a nearby armchair and holding a pot.

"Er, yes, please," Raul stuttered, and was handed a steaming white china mug. There was breakfast too, fruit and pastries and muffins, laid out neatly on a cart.

"Did you sleep well?" asked the man, and there followed an awkward few minutes of polite conversation. Raul felt scruffy and grubby, and huddled under the blanket as best he could.

He took the opportunity to study the man who'd given him shelter in this unexpected way. He was stout, clearly well-fed, but with muscle lurking in firm arms and thighs; not fat, Raul thought, except perhaps around the belly. The man had mid-brown hair graying at the temples, and Raul guessed he was probably in his late thirties, early forties perhaps. He had a warm, genuine smile that worked its way through full lips to blue-gray eyes.

"I must apologize, I have to go meet someone," said the man eventually, after Raul had eaten his way through an apple and a muffin, and was eying a large croissant. "But you're welcome to stay as long as you like. Feel free to get room service, movies, food, put it all on the room. Unless you have to go get to a job or something?"

"I work out on the fishing boats when I can," Raul mumbled, inhaling the aroma of strong coffee. He'd found there were some independent local fishermen who sometimes needed an extra pair of hands, who appreciated someone who wasn't afraid of hard work and knew his way around a boat, who paid cash in hand at the end of the day. "But they go early in the morning, they'll all have left by now." Raul didn't own a watch, but could tell from the brilliant sunlight that it was well past daybreak.

"Oh dear." The man looked contrite, and then, to Raul's amazement, plucked a wallet from his shirt pocket. "Let me compensate you for your loss of earnings."

And he peeled off three bills, leaned forward, and pressed them into Raul's hand. Raul glanced at the denominations and choked on his coffee. What the _fuck _was going on?

The man was standing up, speaking briskly. "I'll be back this evening, maybe you'll be busy, but perhaps I'll see you then? Here, take this--in case you go out and want to come back."

And he tossed a white plastic key card onto the table, turned, and left.

* * *

  
Raul had no idea what to do. Get the hell away from this madman while he could, having been amply rewarded for doing nothing? Or hang around, on the assumption he was on to a good thing? Raul wasn't comfortable with the latter. Much as Raul needed the money--God knows he really needed money--the guy hadn't even had a handjob for it.

He left the room, but took the key card with him. He spoke to a maid in the corridor and asked the man's name (he'd been told, but it hadn't stuck; the guy had just been a john, after all).

"The fat man? He is Mr Linus," the maid smiled widely as she told him. Raul guessed Linus was a good tipper.

He went out and spent a little of the money in his pocket on a stout pair of shoes. Raul had gotten off the boat with no more than the ragged set of clothes he'd been wearing; he'd found out where to get dirt-cheap clothes since, but hadn't got round to replacing his old sneakers.

At the end of the day he hesitated between returning to the cruising zone, or going back to the hotel, and eventually found his newly-shod feet taking him back to the hotel. A possible answer occurred to him on the way; maybe the guy had problems getting it up? Perhaps he'd picked Raul up last night only to realize it wasn't going to work, but hoped it would tonight... so he'd paid Raul to try and draw him back?

But Linus wasn't there. Raul waited a while, watching TV. He wasn't comfortable ordering food, but after a bit he did eat some chips and chocolate from the room mini-bar, plus a soda, and left a few dollars inside the mini-bar to compensate.

Linus arrived back in the early hours of the morning. He walked through the living room, and waved at Raul on the sofa. "Raul, my beautiful boy! How nice to see you again."

He headed into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes off slowly. Raul followed him in and watched from a few feet away. Linus was clearly drunk, and just as obviously from the sated glaze in his eyes, he'd had sex.

"You have a good time?" Raul asked tentatively.

"I did, Raul, I did." Linus got one shoe off and dropped it on the floor. "I met my friend Julio, we had some splendidly productive and useful business meetings. Then we went to his club, where I had a verrrry steamy encounter with a hot young man who gave good head."

Raul blinked and felt ridiculously indignant. "You could have come back here for that." As he spoke he felt silly, and blushed a little.

Linus got the other shoe off, and paused with it in his hand. "Raul, how old are you?"

"Eighteen," Raul said promptly. He'd been so well coached in that particular lie that he barely even remembered it was a falsehood.

Linus snorted. "If I thought that was true, I would have been fucking you senseless last night." He dropped the second shoe on the floor and flopped backwards to lie on the bed.

Suddenly Raul understood a little more, and he felt his heart start to hammer against his ribs as he assimilated the new information. "You think I'm a kid?"

Linus shrugged a little. "I know you're not eighteen."

Raul was annoyed, and blood rose in his veins. "What does it matter? You're afraid of getting in trouble? It's not gonna happen, I've got no papers, I've got no family, nobody to know or care how old I am--"

"Perhaps_ I _fucking well care," Linus said, sharpness entering his voice.

"But why give me money if you don't want to fuck me? I don't want you taking pity on me because you think I'm a homeless kid! I'm grown-up--I work--do you have any idea what I went through to get here?" Raul shouted, and stamped his foot.

"Ah, the fiery Latin temperament," Linus intoned, peering at Raul through heavy-lidded eyes. "Raul, I deliberately got laid before I came back tonight, and you know why? Because I didn't trust myself to keep my hands off your beautiful young body otherwise."

This left Raul speechless. He stared at the big man, and felt a rush of astounded affection he couldn't begin to express.

"Anyway, I'm far too tired to argue about this now," Linus continued. "I'm going to sleep." Beat. "Do sleep here if you want."

And Linus hauled himself up on the bed, put his head on a pillow, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

  
Raul slept in the bed, which was easily large enough for the two of them to sleep together without touching even by mistake. He stayed a few inches away from Linus, relishing sharing some of the same body warmth, but not daring to get closer. The more he thought about what Linus had said, the more amazed he was.

He slept only lightly, not letting himself crash like the night before. He got up at daybreak, and headed out to the fishing docks. He took the key card, but left all the money Linus had given him, minus what he'd spent on the shoes, on the table in the living room. He left a note on the desk, on hotel notepaper he found there; _Gone fishing_.

He returned in the late afternoon, tired but exhilarated by a day working at sea, and found Linus in yet another multi-colored shirt, wearing small spectacles high on his nose and reading from a file at the desk. There were papers everywhere. Linus looked up as Raul came in; his face brightened into a broad smile and he slipped off the spectacles. "Raul, how splendid to see you. I wasn't sure if you were coming back..."

The pile of money Raul had left on the table was still there, untouched. Raul added the small bills he'd earned that day to the stack; Linus frowned as he watched. "Raul, the money's a gift. I really, really, don't want it back."

"I don't want charity. If I can't earn it, I don't want it."

"For Chrissake! I don't want you to have sex with me because you're on the street and utterly fucking desperate," Linus declared, throwing his arms wide. "I want you to have sex with me because you've made a genuine economic choice to do so. Or, heaven forbid, because you actually _want _to--"

Raul dived towards Linus, threw his arms around him and kissed him hard on the mouth. Linus exhaled a surprised, "Hmph?"

Raul continued to kiss Linus across the face, neck, ears, all the while murmuring, "I want to, I want to, _I want to..."_

And he really did want to. Linus tasted fresh and clean, and smelled of citrus blossom with undertones of spicy scents that Raul could not begin to to describe; Linus's lips were full and soft and his hair was sleek and smooth under Raul's palms. Raul slid a hand between the buttons of the silk shirt, and his fingertips brushed chest hair, lots of it; oh yes, Raul liked that a lot.

Linus's hands were in his hair now, Raul felt gentle fingers combing his dark curls carefully, and Linus muttering, "Raul, my beautiful Raul," and then the hands shifted downwards, moving rapturously across Raul's chest and back. "Raul, so _gorgeous_\--let's go somewhere more comfortable." They disentangled sufficiently to get to the bedroom, where Linus sat on the edge of the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt. He said quietly, "Let me see you."

Raul stood squarely in front of Linus, and found he could also glimpse himself in a large mirrored wardrobe door to the side. He hooked his T-shirt off over his head, revealing his smooth, almost hairless chest, toned with the effort of manual labor and sun-bronzed from many hours spent in the open air. He then stripped off his jeans and underwear, to stand there butt-naked and proud of the way he looked.

"There can be no more beautiful sight in the world," Linus said emphatically. He slid off his own pants, revealing thick, strong thighs and a fleshy, hardening cock. "Or maybe I just died and went to heaven, and found an angel at the gate--"

His words stopped abruptly as Raul dropped to his knees and took Linus's cock in his mouth. Raul felt fingers pulling at his hair and ears immediately as Linus's hands clutched and grasped blindly.

Raul had always enjoyed giving blowjobs, adored the taste of salt and the scent of musk and the fullness of a long hard dick poking down his throat. Glorying in Linus's erection, he licked and sucked until Linus's hiccuped gasps turned to a long strangled cry; Raul spat neatly, then clambered up onto the bed, where Linus threw shuddering arms around him.

* * *

  
They spent the next twenty-four hours in bed, naked, exploring each other's bodies. Raul spent most of the time with his hand or mouth or ass by Linus's cock, got to know it intimately, thick and pink and delicious.

The first time they ass-fucked, Raul thought he might spontaneously combust. He was on his feet, leaning across the bed; Linus standing behind him, hands planted firmly on Raul's hips, moving steadily in and out. Raul was full and fulfilled and content to stay where he was forever, suspended in time; but somehow there was more and more, and _FUCK_, how could anything in the world be this good, and getting better still, and better?--And then he felt Linus give a final, frenzied jerk inside him, and Raul exploded with a shout of ecstasy that was almost a shriek.

They talked, too, learning about each other between bouts of frantic, feverish sex. Raul spoke a little about where he'd come from, why he'd come to the States, how he'd been left with nothing to stay home for after his father had been killed in prison and his mother died soon after. "From a broken heart," as Raul explained.

In return, Linus rumbled about his own life. Raul learned that Linus's family consisted of a succession of aged aunts across the Eastern seaboard, who admonished him for not visiting them enough and spoiled him rotten at the same time. Linus talked about where he lived in New Jersey, his import-export business, his travels abroad, his home by the sea. The boat he part owned; his hobbies, food, wine, and golf. His circle of friends, who were clearly important to him.

Raul never wanted it to end. But when Linus took a call on his cell, and then spent ten minutes pacing around the living room reading figures off a balance sheet to someone down the line, Raul knew that it was the end; real life was about to intrude.

Linus walked back into the bedroom, closing the cell in his fist. Raul curled up in a small ball in a corner of the bed, waiting to be thrown out.

"Raul, I have to go home," Linus said, straight out. "I've already stayed longer in Florida than I was going to. I should've left two days ago, you know. But after you left that note,_ gone fishing_, I stayed hoping you'd come back..."

Raul cast his eyes down and didn't speak, couldn't bear to believe that he was about to lose someone he'd connected with so well, so quickly. He stayed quiet, but inside he wanted to scream and sob and cry, to throw a tantrum that life was _not fucking fair_....

"I thought I could help you find a place to live around here, maybe even a job, if you want," Linus offered. "I know some people who'd be able to help... I visit Florida fairly often, we could see each other sometimes."

Raul looked up into Linus's blue-gray eyes, pleased by the offer but still dismayed by the prospect of losing Linus.

"Or," Linus hesitated, then plunged on. "I wondered if you would come home with me."

"To New Jersey?" Raul was startled.

"Yes. I'll quite understand if you don't want to," Linus added hastily. "I know you came a long way to get here, New Jersey's probably not what you had in mind, the weather's very cold sometimes. And you probably don't want to leave the Cuban Miami community--"

"Linus, I would go _anywhere _to be with you," Raul burst out, more sincerely than he could express. "Take me with you."

Linus's eyes looked just a little moist as he held out a hand and said, "I will."

END


	3. Boyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Raul bond. Flashback fic showing Raul arriving in New Jersey and meeting Chris for the first time.

Brian let out a whoop as the kite rose into the air. Raul jerked the string, tweaking it higher, then suddenly it dipped and nosedived onto the sand.

"It needs a better tail," Raul called to Brian. "Perhaps ribbons?"

"Let's try again," Brian urged, lifting the kite up. Raul started to run along the beach, Brian threw the kite into the air, and it flapped up towards the sky, higher this time.

"Yes!" Raul shouted, holding the string high above his head.

"Give me a go," Brian begged, running up to Raul. Raul grinned and held the kite away; Brian ducked under his arm and tried to grab it. The two of them went down in a tangle of limbs into the sand, and the kite fell like a stone on top of them.

Chris and Linus, watching from the comfort of deck chairs outside Chris's house, both laughed.

"Honestly, those boys," Linus said to Chris, in a tone of mock exasperation. "You'd think they were fourteen, the way they behave sometimes."

"Well, it's good they can play together so nicely." Chris was joking, but also voicing something he'd been thinking for a while. With Raul around, Brian was able to be playful and have fun; Chris wondered if Brian was making up for the time when his parents made him give up baseball.

"Raul didn't have much of a childhood, of course." Linus was suddenly somber, and Chris realized Linus was thinking along similar lines. "You remember when I first met him, brought him home with me? So terribly shy. With a real temper, actually, and such passion…but also damaged."

Chris did indeed remember. "He was far too fucking young."

 

* * *

  
"Welcome to my humble abode," Linus said, his voice droll, as he pushed open his large heavy front door.

Linus's home was huge and lavishly furnished. Raul had never been in such a big house before. He wandered through large rooms; living room, dining room, a games room with a huge pool table, a kitchen larger than his entire old family home. A bathroom larger than the boat he'd gotten to the US on. There was a majestic staircase rising up the center of the house, and upstairs, more bathrooms and multiple bedrooms.

"This is my bedroom," Linus said, walking into a vast room with a bed right in the center of the floor. "There's another room right next door, and if you want to make yourself at home there, it's your space to do with whatever you want. But I really hope you'll come sleep in here with me at night."

Raul laughed a little, because the bed was sufficiently large that it seemed Linus might not notice if he was even there or not.

He settled his meager possessions into the bedroom next door, amazed to have an entire walk-in closet to himself. On their first evening in Jersey, Raul came cautiously to Linus's bed, and felt himself pulled close, heard Linus murmuring gently, "Raul, my beautiful Raul, more, please, fuck _yes_."

New Jersey was quite different from Miami, took some getting used to, but Raul was pleased that Linus lived right by the ocean. Linus took him to the nearby docks the next day, showed him the boat he part-owned with friends, and Raul was duly impressed.

He managed to find his own way to the docks a few days later, when Linus was off working. Raul helped a guy trying to patch a hole in a yacht, and got paid for it. It seemed there was a bit of work to be found with the boats, but not much fishing. However, there was other manual labor to be had. Raul had a nose for finding such work, and soon ended up doing some casual yard work for a firm who needed guys to mow lawns, dig up brush and weed gardens. It suited Raul; the work was tough but rewarding.

"You do realize that you don't need to work," was Linus's reaction when Raul told him proudly about his successes.

"I like working," Raul protested, and it was true. He liked to keep busy, he liked to keep fit, he liked to be outdoors, and he wanted to have at least a little money independent from the man who had unexpectedly become his sugar daddy.

"Then work… but, let me give you a safety net," Linus said, and the following day presented Raul with really quite a large sum of money in cash.

"I don't want it," Raul tried to protest, feeling the same way he did the last time Linus had made such an offer.

"You don't have to spend it. Keep it for a rainy day. Or in case of emergency, if anything ever happens to me and you need it. If you ever want to leave, go anywhere, you use this money. No hard feelings. No strings." Linus hesitated. "I don't want you to feel like a bird in a gilded cage."

It was easier not to argue. Raul stashed the money in the back of his closet, and tried not to think about it.

* * *

  
They'd been there a week, and Raul was just getting used to the new environment, when a friend of Linus's came to call. Raul hovered on the landing when Linus went to open the front door, peering down through the banisters.

"My dear Chris, how nice to see you!"

"Linus, hey," said the newcomer laconically, stepping inside. "How was Florida?"

He was tall, with straw-colored hair and gray eyes, wearing a slightly battered but good quality brown leather jacket. He and Linus greeted each other with warm handshakes and claps on the back, and Raul was reassured that this wasn't a boyfriend, wasn't a threat.

Raul sat on the stairs for some time, listening to the two men talking away in the living room about business and boats and the weather down in Florida, and soon decided they were good friends, but not even fuckbuddies—there was no sexual vibe between them at all.

"Oh, and I brought you back a present from Julio," Linus remembered. "Cigars that might just have come from somewhere they shouldn't--hold on, they'e upstairs somewhere. Bear with me..."

Linus came out of the living room, and found Raul on the stairs. "Raul darling, no need to be shy! Come and meet my good friend Chris."

Alarm coursed through Raul's veins, but he told himself not to be silly. Just a friend of Linus's, nothing to be scared of. Linus fetched the cigars and Raul accompanied him back downstairs cautiously. The fair haired man was lounging on Linus's huge white sofa, comfortably, like he was used to being there.

"Chris, I brought back the most splendid present for myself, too," Linus said briskly. "This is Raul."

"Hello, Chris," Raul said politely.

"Hey, Raul." Chris was looking at him with interest, but also detachment. "Nice to meet you."

Up close, Raul felt his heart start to hammer against his ribs; this man was very attractive. His fair hair curled just a little above his eyes and his gray eyes sparkled with good health and humor.

But he was barely looking at Raul, already turning his attention to the cigars. "These look top of the range, Linus, I'll give Julio a call and say thank you."

Raul's nerve broke at that moment, he muttered an excuse-me and edged out of the room. He didn't immediately flee upstairs though, but returned to his previous place lurking on the steps.

"You got a shy one this time," he heard Chris say to Linus.

Raul wondered if Linus often brought young men home out of the blue. Perhaps, Raul realized rather ruefully, he did.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Linus demanded.

"Yeah." Chris sounded cautious. "How old is he?"

"He says he's eighteen--"

Chris snorted. "Yeah, right. Where did you find him?"

"Turning tricks down in South Beach. He's got nothing, Chris," Linus said, a note of warning in his voice. "He arrived in the States with the clothes he stood up in. He came here as the bottom boy for a bunch of men only interested in seeing if they could pimp him out for ready cash."

"There's always a sob story." Chris sounded exasperated. " Just be careful, Linus."

* * *

  
Chris left soon afterwards, and Raul came down to sit with Linus in the living room once the coast was clear.

"You liked Chris?" Linus asked, lifting a hand to caress Raul's hair. His tone was idle but Raul realized the answer was important.

"Of course. He was very nice." Raul hesitated, not wanting to pry. "Have you been friends a long time?"

"Oh yes, Chris and I go back a long way," Linus answered promptly.

"He seems...sad about something," Raul picked his word cautiously. It wasn't too obvious, but Chris had a small cloud of melancholy hanging about him.

"The man he loved died in a road accident, about a year and a half ago," Linus said gravely. "His name was Edward. He fell off a motorcycle while Chris was driving. He's never gotten over it."

A wave of sorrow crept over Raul. How terrible, how simply _horrible_. Raul had experienced bereavement, too much already in his life. He wondered how he would feel if he were to lose Linus, and shuddered a little at the idea. Poor Chris, alone in the world.

"If you want to have sex with Chris, go ahead," Linus said, straight, and Raul was completely astonished.

"Um--I wasn't trying to say--"

"I know you weren't. But _I _wanted to say it; life's too short not to say what you mean."

Raul tried to figure out what Linus meant. "Do you… want me to leave?" He felt panic-stricken at the thought.

"Raul, my beautiful Raul, I want you to stay with me forever, or as long as you can bear to put up with me. But I know myself far too well to promise any kind of relationship other than an open one." Linus sighed. "Chris calls it _boyeurism_. Says I'm addicted to watching men who are way too young for me. And not just watching, either."

Raul nodded slowly, feeling his way through this.

"The corollary is, I really have no problem with you doing the same," Linus went on. "With anyone you want, really. So long as you're happy, and for God's sake use protection."

* * *

  
Raul took some time to think about that one. But the truth was, Raul liked sex and he liked attractive men, and secure in the knowledge that Linus was not only okay with that but positively encouraging it...well, that was good.

But Chris? Chris didn't seem to be particularly interested in him. Raul met Chris on a number of occasions thereafter, sometimes at Linus's house, sometimes out in a bar or restaurant (Chris seemed to own a number of these), and although Chris was unfailingly friendly and polite, he didn't respond to Raul's hesitant attempts to flirt at all.

In the meantime, Raul settled very nicely into life with Linus. Linus traveled a lot both for business and pleasure, and Raul took pleasure in accompanying him.

One night in a hotel bar a bald man in a smart suit talked knowingly about real estate to Linus, then started to flirt with Raul, and Linus simply sat back with a wink and let it happen. A short while later it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for them both to accompany the stranger up to his hotel room, and Raul was soon down on his knees giving the stranger a blow job. The bald man let out wordless gasps and groans, until pulling out swiftly to come across Raul's chest.

"You're....you're fucking good at this," he eventually wheezed between puffs of breath.

"He certainly is," Linus said, moving up behind Raul and sliding a hand around to undo Raul's belt buckle.

The stranger mopped his dome-shaped bald head with a handkerchief, and watched while Linus took Raul swiftly from behind. Raul was exhilarated and horny and took him readily, arching his back and letting Linus deep, _deep _inside him. They fucked on all fours for a few moments, Linus clutching at Raul's shoulders, then Linus pushed Raul down into the carpet and ground his way to ecstasy. Raul twitched and moaned and rubbed himself to climax against the thick pile.

A short while later, as they prepared to leave, the man said, "You ever want to do a property deal in New York, call my firm, ask for Harvey," and flipped Linus a business card.

* * *

  
Other men were all very well and good, but Raul found himself repeatedly dreaming about what it would be like being fucked by Chris; he knew it would be hot and fast and rough, and fulfilling in every possible way.

And when it finally happened, it did not disappoint.

Linus was a social animal, and the default place he liked to hang out at was a club that belonged to Chris. There was a private bar upstairs where Linus had a well-worn corner seat at a table where he sat to expound to friends about life, the universe and everything. Raul noticed that Linus also liked to spend time in the public bar downstairs, where it was easier to keep an eye out for pretty young men coming through the door. Raul preferred the downstairs bar himself, because it had a big-screen TV and was always bustling and fun in the evening.

One night Linus was upstairs and Raul was downstairs, watching a game, when he got hit on by a burly guy with a small head on large shoulders.

"Aren't you a cutie," the guy said, moving to trap Raul against the wall. "Have I seen you here before?"

"I don't think so." Raul was polite as he glanced from side to side. He was blocked by the guy's hands against the wall on either side; then one of the hands shifted to pin Raul's arm against the wall.

"Well, it's about time we got to know each other."

Raul had complete confidence in his own ability to deal with this situation. He'd had shit like this all his life, and had gained strength and guile to extricate himself from whatever he didn't want to do. But suddenly he spotted Chris across the room, looking at him, frowning slightly.

Raul abruptly changed his mind about wriggling out of the guy's grip by bending back his arm, and instead shot a wide-eyed, panicky look in Chris's direction.

Chris was across the room in a few strides, and glaring at the guy.

"Let go of him," Chris said without ceremony. He was every inch the alpha male, tall and bristling.

The guy looked at Chris. Whether he was intimidated by Chris's aggression, or whether he recognized Chris's authority as the club owner, Raul didn't know; but he dropped Raul's arm immediately, and backed off with no more than a grumble.

"He's a regular asshole," Chris muttered to Raul. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Raul passed a dramatic hand over his eyes. "Just a little faint, perhaps..."

Concern glinted in Chris's gray eyes. _Lovely soft eyes,_ Raul thought.

"Come and sit down. There's a staffroom out the back here." Chris pulled a bunch of keys from a pocket and unlocked a nearby door. Raul allowed himself to be ushered through, and found himself in a rather unprepossessing empty room abounding in lumpy couches and hard chairs.

"You can stay--" Chris began, and was interrupted by Raul throwing his arms around him and kissing him hard. Ah, this was _great_. Chris tasted of smoke and mints, smelled fresh and clean, felt warm and pliable.

"You little minx," Chris said breathlessly a few minutes later. "You didn't need rescuing after all, did you?"

"Maybe not," Raul admitted, tugging on Chris's shirt. "Chris, please, just fuck me already--"

Chris's eyes skated around the room. "Not here. Bob once found me with--Let's go to my office."

Instead of going back into the club, Chris crossed the staffroom to another door. There was a small emergency stairwell behind, and Chris headed upstairs, Raul fairly bounding behind. They arrived in a small corridor and Raul recognized the way to Chris's office, he'd just never approached from this direction before.

Raul liked Chris's office, it was large and comfortable with an overstuffed couch conveniently placed. Raul was kicking off shoes and stripping off clothes straight away, knowing he looked good, enjoying Chris's eyes on him. Chris unbuttoned his fly and rolled on a condom. Then Chris pulled him close, and sparks flew and fireworks went off in Raul's head.

It was hot and fast and rough, and fulfilling in every possible way. They did it with Raul on his back on the couch, legs splayed, Chris standing. They were both ready to come almost as soon as Chris was inside, each holding off as long as possible while hands groped and sweat dripped and thighs pounded, in and out and yes, yes, _yes_.

"You're just too cute," Chris muttered afterwards, barely audibly, running a hand through Raul's hair.

Raul lay in a blissful post-coital haze, gazing at a picture on the wall opposite. It was a pencil drawing of a house by the ocean; Raul recognized Chris's own home. Raul thought the drawing was beautiful, and wondered who'd done it for Chris. He didn't like to ask.

A short while later Raul left Chris snoozing gently on the couch, slipping out along the corridor and edging hesitantly through the main door into the upstairs private bar. The bartender glanced at him but didn't say anything, and kept an admirably neutral face.

Linus was there in his favorite corner seat. He saw Raul emerge from behind the bar and raised a significant eyebrow. Raul joined Linus and greeted him with a kiss on the lips.

"You got laid," Linus said immediately, and Raul dipped his eyes a little in acknowledgement, snuggling down on the seat next to Linus.

Linus licked his lips a little and stretched out his arms. "See if you can fix it so I can watch next time."

* * *

  
Chris and Brian lay on sun loungers, both bare-chested and basking in the good weather. Brian was wearing cut-off jeans and Chris was in a pair of snug black swim shorts he knew Brian was fond of seeing. Linus somehow always got sunny days for his pool parties.

Raul emerged from the house wearing a pair of knee-length shorts that somehow showed off Raul's superb figure even though they were a baggy fit. Chris felt Brian stir next to him, and knew why; Raul was simply gorgeous. His tawny skin was flawless, his abdomen sculpted; his chest was smooth and almost hairless, punctuated only by snub nipples. He barely paused on the edge of the pool before diving cleanly in; he hit the water with barely a splash, and swam up the pool with power from sinewy arms.

"I could so get me a piece of that ass," a voice said, from some way to Chris's left. Chris glanced across, and saw Brian looking too. They saw a young man with dark spiky hair and a sharp nose, propping himself up on one elbow on a sun lounger.

"Watch it," the guy on the next lounger along warned. "Don't you know who he is?"

"I know he's fucking asking for it, looking like that."

"He lives here," his friend chided. "He's our host's boyfriend."

"The fat guy?" Sharp Nose said in a tone of contempt, and Chris watched Brian's face crinkle into a frown. "You've gotta be kidding. He's fifty if he's a day. This one can't be more than twenty-five."

"They've lived together for years."

"That's just sick. No way," said Sharp Nose, and hauled himself into a sitting position. "He'll be gagging for someone nearer his own age. Watch him jump when I give him half a chance."

Brian looked at Chris with raised eyebrows. Chris shook his head: _Stay out of this._

Raul had clambered out of the pool nearby, grabbed a towel, was mopping his face and hair. The sharp nosed guy approached Raul with a swagger.

"Hey, handsome," the guy drawled.

Raul smiled politely, showing his neat white teeth. "Hey."

"What's a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?"

"I live here."

"No shit. With the fat man?"

Raul's face went blank, and he replied, "With Linus, yes."

Apparently perceiving he'd made a mistake, the guy went on, "No offense. I'm sure he's a great guy. Look, let's go get a drink and how about we go somewhere more private."

"No thank you." Raul was firm.

"Oh come on," the man coaxed. "He must be twice your age." And he reached out and touched Raul on the arm.

"Please let go of my arm," Raul said coldly.

The man tightened his grip instead. "Look, baby—"

And with a deft flick of a muscled bicep, Raul flipped his arm, and the guy lurched sideways, lost his balance and fell straight into the water.

Brian clapped, and Raul turned to see Chris and Brian. His face broke into a wide smile. "Chris, Brian! I didn't know you were here." He came up and perched on Brian's sun lounger. "How are you?"

"Enjoying the view, and the show," Chris said.

"Way to go," Brian said, and Raul dipped his head and planted a kiss on Brian's cheek. Brian turned his head a little, and this time Raul got him on the lips. They started to smooch properly, Raul stroking Brian's bristled chin, Brian reaching to caress Raul's shoulder.

Chris leaned back to enjoy the spectacle, taking in the satisfying sight of a dripping Sharp Nosed Guy in the background watching with his jaw hanging open. Chris then spotted Linus making his way towards them, and smiled; Linus could spot an opportunity for _boyeurism _a mile off.

END


	4. Molten Lava

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is busy, Linus has some bad news, and Brian learns about Linus &amp; Raul's past relationship.

  
_Third time around_

Chris had been working hard recently on a major refurbishment of one of his restaurants, and Brian felt he had won a victory by persuading him to take a day off. They'd taken the bike out along the coastal road, stopped for a picnic and a pleasant walk, and it was all very nice.

Then Chris's cell rang, and Brian shook his head with mock disapproval. "No work today."

"It's Linus." Chris looked at the caller display, and picked up. "Hey, Linus?"

A short conversation later, Chris hung up and announced they were having dinner with Linus at the steakhouse. This wasn't exactly how Brian had envisaged the day going, but he just nodded. It was better them both having dinner with Linus than Chris having a snatched sandwich while overseeing workmen at the restaurant.

Linus was already at the steakhouse when they arrived. He was sitting in the prime table by the window, looking out at the ocean. They sat down, and Chris said easily, "Hey."

Linus turned his head toward them and said, "I went to Princeton Plainsboro yesterday."

Princeton Plainsboro? Brian's mind flew to the hospital, to House. Why would Linus be going to visit House? And then he saw Chris's face, frozen in alarm, and remembered Wilson. _Crap_. Wilson was Linus's doctor. Linus would be going to visit Wilson.

"Not good news. That damn cancer is back for a third attempt," Linus was blunt. "We caught it at an early stage again, and Wilson is cautiously optimistic, but he says no more radiation."

"Then what instead?" Brian queried. He hadn't been around during Linus's previous two struggles with cancer, but knew that each had been successfully combated with radiation therapy.

"This time it's surgery," Linus explained. "That prostate of mine has done enough damage. It's coming out."

_Surgery_. Brian pondered; that sounded...serious. Linus looked grave, and Chris was staring at the floor.

"Coming out is usually a positive thing," Brian quipped eventually, seeing that Chris was choked to the point where he couldn't actually speak.

"Indeed it is," Linus responded in kind, allowing a grin to crack open his lips. "But I'd have liked to hang onto my prostate, actually. It's been the bringer of much pleasure over the years. Oh well, these things are sent to try us."

"When does it happen?" Brian asked, trying to be practical and ask the things Chris surely wanted to know. "How long does it take?"

"Operation is scheduled for Thursday afternoon." Linus was brisk. Today was Monday. Linus carried on, "Wilson's expedited things most efficiently. I've spent today canceling everything else I was supposed to be doing over the next few weeks. I'll travel up to Princeton with Raul on Wednesday night." He hesitated. "The operation shouldn't take more than a few hours if there are no complications, but I'm likely to be in the hospital for a number of days. If you'd like to come too--"

"We'll be there," Chris cut in, and his voice was a little thick but otherwise perfectly controlled.

"That is very good of you," Linus's voice rang with gratitude. "I'm glad Raul will have some support. I do hate the idea of him waiting outside the operating room on his own."

Typical of Linus to express concern in terms of Raul, rather than any of his own fears. And speaking of Raul... "Where is he?" Brian asked.

"My darling Raul is currently scouring the Internet for information about prostate cancer surgery and recovery," Linus explained. "He took the news very well; I don't know what I'd do without him. He's a pillar of support, he really is."

Chris grunted. "He wasn't like that the first time around, was he?"

"Times change, Chris, times change." Linus stretched in his chair. And seeing Brian's inquisitive look, Linus went on, "The poor boy was so distressed. He was very young, and we had only been together for six months."

 

* * *

  
_First time around_

The night Linus broke the news that he had prostate cancer, Raul thought it was the end of the world.

"Cancer? _Cancer_?" Raul foresaw pain and agony and hospitals and death. "It can't be true! It can't!"

"I'm afraid so." Linus reached out a gentle hand, but Raul pulled away, unable to accept any comfort. He was all too aware that it should be him supporting Linus right now, not the other way around.

"What... how bad is it? What does it mean?"

Patiently, Linus explained the situation. It had been caught early. It would be treated with radiation therapy. Prospects were good. Raul started to calm down, until Linus mentioned he would be in a hospital in Princeton for the duration of the treatment. Maybe six to eight weeks.

"What?" The prospect of losing Linus for such a length of time was so appalling, Raul felt sick. He had only known Linus for six months, to lose him for two more... "In Princeton? Why? Where is Princeton?"

"It's a couple of hours drive from here. I know the Head of Oncology there, he's a, uh, friend of Chris's." Linus took a deep breath. "I don't want you to come with me. I want you to stay here and mind the house. I'll be back in no time."

"No! You can't leave me here on my own for two months!" Raul knew he'd become shrill and incoherent.

"You have a hospital phobia. I really cannot deal with that on top of everything else," Linus declared, and Raul practically burst into tears. He _did _have a hospital phobia.

The last time he'd tried to visit one, he'd been so sick with terror he hadn't even gotten inside the door. When he'd first moved in with Linus, Linus had been insistent that he needed a physical exam ("You were homeless and hustling on street corners!") but Raul was so adamant that Linus eventually found another solution, and arranged for a doctor to make a home visit. Raul had still been nervous, but the doctor Linus produced turned out to be female and Spanish, with a manner so exactly like one of Raul's elementary school teachers that Raul found himself meekly doing everything she told him.

"Chris is going to drive me there," Linus added, and Raul went into a positive sulk at the realization that Chris would get to see Linus in the hospital and he wouldn't.

"I could take you, so long as I didn't go inside—" Raul thought maybe he could cope with that.

"No, you can't drive me." Linus sounded exasperated. "You don't have a license!"

This was true. Raul could drive perfectly well, he'd learned off-road when young, but he didn't have a US driving license. He had been putting off getting one because he didn't want to take a test. Tests meant paperwork and bureaucracy and dealing with an authority figure.

"It'll be fine." Linus was soothing now. "Chris will keep an eye on you. Ziggy, too, so long as you don't run off and hide in a closet when he visits."

Raul winced. He'd been living with Linus for a week when Ziggy had first come calling: Raul had seen a newcomer in the hallway, an obvious cop with a gun on his hip and a scowl on his face, and fled upstairs to hide, convinced that the police had come to take him away. He'd since learned Ziggy was in fact a very amiable fellow, but Raul was still wary.

"I don't want anyone else to keep an eye on me." Raul was forlorn. "I want you."

"I'll be back in no time." Linus repeated.

Soon afterwards, Linus went away. The first night alone, Raul found himself building up to a point of near hysteria. He tried to watch TV, read books and calm down. Eventually, the adrenalin drained away to the point he could fall asleep as the sun rose.

Linus called most evenings and they spoke on the phone. Raul quickly learned it was best not to sound upset as it only made Linus upset, too. He learned to keep busy during the day, to spend time out on the fishing boats and try not to think about Linus suffering through radiation therapy.

Chris dropped by a few times, with brief news, brisk reassurances, and chunks of money which Linus seemed to think Raul would need. Raul found himself both desperately looking forward to these visits and yet finding them increasingly unbearable. Basically, Chris didn't take him seriously, and this started to upset Raul more and more.

Rationally, Raul knew that he was just the latest in a long line of young men from varied backgrounds whom Linus had brought home; but Linus never made him feel that, while Chris did. Raul also knew that he was different from all the others, and that Linus suspected as such, but Chris all too obviously didn't. Chris, with his occasional references to _Linus's stray cats_, clearly hardly expected Raul to be around the following day, let alone the next month or year. Or beyond.

"You have to take me to see him!" Raul found himself pleading one night.

"He doesn't want you to see him," Chris sounded like his patience was being sorely tried.

"Why not?" Raul was practically screaming now. _"Why not?"_

"Because you're too fucking high maintenance, that's why!" Chris shouted back, and Raul was rendered dumbstruck, utterly shocked.

"I'm sorry," Chris said immediately. _But you are_, was the unspoken follow-up that Raul heard.

After the initial upset wore off, Raul realized Chris was right; he _was _high-maintenance. And if Chris didn't take him seriously, and indeed Linus not as seriously as he would have liked, perhaps Raul had not given them enough reason to.

Raul had no faith in any higher being, but he sat beside the fire that night and vowed that if Linus came home, he would somehow learn to overcome his hospital phobia. And he would pass his test and get a driver's license.

* * *

  
_Third time around_

Chris, Brian and Linus stayed some time at the steakhouse, talking. They established that Chris and Brian would travel up to Princeton on Wednesday too, and stay in a hotel. Brian knew this would be very inconvenient for Chris's restaurant refurbishment work--the place was due to re-open the day after Linus's operation--but Chris didn't mention that, and Brian was careful not to, either.

As they talked, Brian took the opportunity to have a large T-bone for dinner. Linus picked at a steak salad, but Chris didn't eat anything at all. He sipped at whiskey instead, and gradually Brian saw him begin to relax, and after a while he started to josh around with Linus as if everything was fine.

When they'd finished eating, Linus invited them back to his place for a nightcap. Chris accepted immediately. Brian wasn't about to throw a monkey wrench in the works, but felt the need to remark, "But we shouldn't stay too late. We should let you get a good night's sleep."

"My dear Brian, I'm having surgery. I am not yet decrepit," Linus declared. "Anyway, Raul will kick you out if he thinks I need to rest."

"Like that time—" Chris began.

"Oh yes," Linus interrupted with a chuckle. "Just like that time."

Brian raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"It was the second time I had radiation therapy," Linus explained. "Quite a few years after the first. Raul managed to get over his phobia, and was altogether more involved."

* * *

  
_Second time around_

The night Linus broke the news that the prostate cancer had returned, Raul knew it wasn't the end of the world. But it was still devastating.

One thing Raul was sure would be different; he would not be left alone this time. "If you're going back to Princeton, I'm coming with you." He was still a little shaky at the thought of being in proximity to doctors in white coats, medicine, needles, and hospital beds, but being in a hospital could not be as bad as being without Linus. He would stay close to hand. He would sleep on the floor next to Linus's bed, if necessary.

"I am going back for radiation therapy, but Wilson says it could be on an outpatient basis," Linus explained. "If you don't mind driving me back and forth two or three times a week, I could stay at home."

"Yes. _Yes_," Raul said fervently. Of course he didn't mind.

Thereupon a tough regime of two hour journeys to Princeton began, followed by interminable periods of time in hospital waiting rooms while Linus underwent treatment sessions, and exhausting two hour journeys back. From the start, Linus suffered every side effect in the book; fatigue, nausea, diarrhea. Sometimes he barely got out of bed between hospital trips. But however tough things got, Raul was glad to be involved with this part of Linus's life this time around.

Chris steered clear of any hospital visits, instead dropping by to see Linus at home on a regular basis. He turned up unexpectedly one evening when Linus was at a truly low ebb. They had just gotten back from Princeton after a journey that had started late and then taken an hour longer than usual following an earlier traffic accident. Linus had gotten home only to be promptly sick and go to bed.

"How's the big man?" Chris asked, heading towards the stairs.

"Not good." Raul stepped in front of Chris as they got to Linus's bedroom door. "You can't see him. He's not well enough."

"Just for a few minutes." Chris side-stepped.

"No." Raul put some steel in his voice and blocked the doorway. "You can't. It's too late. Come back tomorrow."

Chris stopped and stared at Raul. "He'd want to see me."

"Yes," Raul admitted. Linus was always happy to see Chris. "But you shouldn't. It will be bad for him."

"You're going to stop me?" Chris eyeballed him, and there was a distinct hint of menace to his stance.

Raul gulped. He was tall and strong, but so was Chris. "If I have to."

"You can fuck right off," Chris shouted, angry now, and gave Raul a hard push in the chest with the flat of his hand. Raul staggered backwards a little. Protective anger flared suddenly in his heart; he pulled back an arm, and landed a right hook squarely on Chris's left cheekbone.

Caught off-balance, Chris fell back, crashed against a wall, and slithered to the floor. He sat there for a minute, looking stunned--as much from surprise as from the blow--then hauled himself to his feet and walked towards the bedroom door, holding a hand up to the side of his face. Raul stood aside this time, and Chris went in.

Shock kept Raul standing where he was for a moment, then he found he was shaking from head to foot. What had he done? He had punched Chris, _Chris_, Linus's oldest and best friend in all the world!

Raul headed blindly downstairs to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a brandy from a quivering hand. He sat down and tried to sip through a constricted throat.

Some ten minutes later, Chris appeared, sporting a swollen bruise on his cheek that already looked to be developing into the most marvelous black eye. Chris spotted the brandy bottle and wordlessly went to pour a glass for himself.

"I'm sorry," Raul stuttered.

"No, _I'm_ sorry." Chris tipped back his head and downed the brandy in one. "You were right. He wasn't well enough to see me. I kept him awake and now he's over-excited and overtired… I should have listened to you."

Raul felt a rush of relief.

"He liked this." Chris indicated his swollen eye. "I may not hear the end of it for a while."

And this time Raul dared smile, and Chris smiled back.

It was curious, but when Raul looked back on it, he saw this event as a turning point; where Chris started to see him as a person in his own right, and not just as Linus's too-young twink boyfriend.

* * *

  
_Third time around_

Chris, Brian and Linus arrived back at Linus's house, and Chris and Linus headed for the living room, deep in conversation and reminiscing about old times. Brian wandered off in search of Raul, and found him sitting in the kitchen perched on a high stool, tapping at a laptop on an even higher surface.

"Hey." Brian wasn't quite sure what to do, how to behave. "Linus told us. It sucks, I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Brian, but it will be fine." Raul reached out and hit buttons to shut down the computer. "Dr. Wilson was very clear. The prognosis is good."

"It still sucks." Brian tried to sound sympathetic, supportive. "We'll travel up with you and stay in Princeton."

"That will be nice," Raul said with sincerity.

Brian hesitated, then dared ask, "Linus and Chris said you used to have a hospital phobia?"

"I did, Brian, I did." Raul stared at the laptop screen as it powered down. "Linus found a therapist who helped me deal with it. Relaxation techniques, helping me understand the bad things I was associating with hospitals. It was very obvious, really."

Brian waited.

"When I was fifteen years old, I watched my mother die." Raul sounded matter-of-fact, as if deliberately distancing himself from the words. "It took a long time. She had breast cancer, was in a lot of pain. She had very good care, actually, but the doctors could do nothing to cure her."

Brian grimaced, feeling even more helpless now than a minute ago.

"And then, I had no family left," Raul added. "I was alone in the world, too young."

"What about your father?" Brian regretted asking as soon as the words left his mouth.

"I lost my father when I was ten." Raul's voice was very quiet. "That was different. The police came and took him away one day, and I never saw him again. At least, not alive. I did see him when they brought his body back a month later."

_Man_. Brian had no words. He had never heard this before. He was sure Chris didn't know.

"The good thing," Raul went on, "was that with nothing and no one to stay for, I decided I had to get to the United States. So I did. And if I hadn't done that, I would have never met Linus."

He closed the laptop lid with a click. Brian noticed Raul's hand was trembling ever so slightly.

The molten lava of youth had hardened with time into granite. Raul was no longer the scared teen he'd been the first time around. But Brian could see very clearly that the swirling volcano underneath was still very much alive.

"Come and have a drink with the others," Brian said gently, and as Raul hopped down from the stool Brian threw an arm around his shoulders and held him tight.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Linus's first cancer treatment was told in [A House Distracted](http://archiveofourown.org/works/71674/chapters/94906).
> 
> The story of Linus's prostate surgery is in Prostates and Plum Pudding.


End file.
